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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29007756">Strip it all away</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/dutchmoxie/pseuds/dearericbittle'>dearericbittle (dutchmoxie)</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Teen Wolf (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Hockey, Banter, Flirting, M/M, Mutual Pining, National Hockey League, POV Stiles Stilinski, Strip Shootout</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 12:09:07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,998</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29007756</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/dutchmoxie/pseuds/dearericbittle</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Normal hockey practice definitely involves his teammates trying to score on him. Except usually the stakes don’t involve getting them naked if he makes the save. Stiles is pretty sure that the distraction of the captain and his long-time crush wearing nothing but his skates is going to kill him.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>309</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>A Very Sterek Winter 2021</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Strip it all away</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/starburst_sunbeam/gifts">starburst_sunbeam</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Takes place in an alternate hockey universe where there are no Vegas Golden Knights but another team instead, with the characters we know and love. Hope the hockey stuff isn’t too unclear - if a glossary is needed, let me know.</p>
<p>(Once again, this is all your fault - Miss may cause spontaneous fic... May cause tropes that probably don't make sense for Sterek, but... I'm having fun and I hope you'll enjoy it too)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Most of the time, during games, Stiles felt like he was watching the action from his own little bubble. It was just that if things were good, half the game took place all the way across the ice and there was nothing he could do to help his team. All he could do was keep an eye out, maybe drink some water and hope that that puck went into the other goal. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>During practice, things were different. Especially during this practice. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Strip shootout,” Coach said and watched everyone’s eyes bug out. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Including Stiles’, let’s be real. Because this was a lot. Especially since this was kind of nerve-wracking for him in particular - almost as much as it was for the rest of the guys, but he still would have liked some advance warning. He probably would have spent a lot more time on his stretches if he knew they were going to do a strip shootout today. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>If he knew that it was up to him to get the guys on his team naked. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Clearly that was his sacred duty as a goalie here - to make sure that he stopped all of the shots and made his teammates have to take their pads and gloves and everything but their skates off at some point - if the coaches would let them take it that far. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Fuck, he really hoped that the coaching staff would let them take it that far. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There were some guys on his team that, well… Stiles would not mind the view, no matter how potentially distracting it was going to be for him. Still - it meant that he was going to have to stop all of their shots round after round after round. All of the shots, from every single one of the players now moaning and groaning and lining up in front of the goal. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Though… Did he have to stop everyone’s shots? </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Do I have to, coach?” Stiles joked. “I may be extremely bisexual, but I already see these idiots naked way too often. And most of them? Just… Not worth it. Maybe I won’t even try.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>This team was a glaring example of the fact that a lot of hockey players were just mediocre white guys who were mostly only attractive because they were athletes. Some of them didn’t have particularly attractive personalities either, and Stiles would rather they just score on him immediately so he wouldn’t have to see disgusting guys like their AHL callup Greenberg naked. No one wanted to see that. He’d be doing everyone a favor if he let that guy score. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Shut up and make an effort, Bilinski,” Coach said, already getting ready for another great speech that was undoubtedly stolen from a great movie. “I lost a testicle to exposure in a shootout like this one - but my goalie was far better than you. Why are you on this team?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ah yes, way to remind Stiles that he was only the backup goalie, and that he was only playing right now because Danny - the nicest damn guy on the team - was out with a groin injury and someone had to replace him. Stiles was just the next guy on the list, even though most of his experience involved sitting on the sidelines just in case something happened. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Not that he couldn’t be good, he could be, it was just that he didn’t usually have a lot of opportunities to prove it. He was usually pretty damn good when they gave him a shot - except the ‘giving him a shot’ thing didn’t happen too often with a first round pick like Danny Mahealani. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Goalie don’t usually go first round. Especially not that high. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Because he’s got one of the best save percentages in the NHL?” Scotty was always there to defend him, even though Coach rarely listened to him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He’s no Carey Price,” Jackson Whittemore immediately rolled his eyes. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Well who fucking was? No one, that was who. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Whitty - who wasn’t actually all that witty - always had to make sure that Stiles did not get too big for his metaphorical britches. Or just his goalie pads, making his lanky body look like he actually had some breadth to him to match up to his late teens growth spurt. Apparently ADHD meds could stunt someone’s growth. Who knew? Not Stiles, until he suddenly went from being 5’10” and undersized for a hockey player to 6’2” and perfectly goalie-sized. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Still, Whitty always made him feel like he was still that eighteen year old kid who didn’t get drafted in the first or second - or third - round because goalies never really went that high anyway, and everyone thought he was just too small to defend the goal properly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And Stiles wasn’t that guy anymore. He’d played actual playoff games last year - a whole two of them, before they got swept in the second round by the fucking Avs. Sure, it couldn’t have been a more likeable team, but even a face as pretty as Gabe the Babe Landeskog was not fun to look at when it was in the handshake line after a devastating series of losses. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, get traded you fuck,” Stiles huffed and hissed far too loudly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Derek Hale, one of the first guys lined up, because he was a good captain who was all about being a good example for the rookies, actually almost smiled at it. And yeah, Stiles suddenly remembered that Gabe the Babe was just another Swedish supermodel compared to the ridiculously attractive Derek Hale. Stiles’ Captain and long-time pathetic crush. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Alright,” Coach was definitely gearing up for a speech. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t think we need the explanation, coach,” Hale cut Coach off before he could even get started. “We try to score, and every time we don’t we have to take off a piece of clothing. And because Stiles is taking this seriously, a lot of these guys will have to play naked.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Usually Stiles liked it when Hale got a bit cocky - because yeah, the guy deserved to be cocky as the captain to the newest team in the NHL. The captain to the team that was already doing better than people had expected, after just a few short years. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They were proving to be quite the example to the next addition - that was going to happen soon, and Stiles really was not ready for that draft. He didn’t even want to consider that some guys on his team were not going to be here anymore after this season - and not just because of the normal trades bullshit. Just because they had to share the wealth with fucking Seattle. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Am I taking this seriously?” Stiles just had to ask. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes, you are,” his Captain was less than amused at the suggestion. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Right, sometimes Stiles actually forgot that Hale didn’t really have a sense of humor. Sure, he was thrust into the spotlight all of a sudden when he went from playing third line minutes on the east coast to being the top scoring defenseman in the league and the captain of a brand new team with a lot of players who’d never faced that scrutiny before. But that didn’t mean he had to start rivalling Jamie Benn with the bland sound bites for the media. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Come to think of it, those two were probably friends. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Though, Benn at least had Seguin to humanize him, make him smile and act like a complete fucking idiot. No one was doing that for Hale - not yet anyway. Even after a couple years of them all being a team - sure, there had been trades, but the core hadn’t changed that much, and still no one had managed to get Hale to lighten the fuck up. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That was all going to change if Stiles had his way. And he would. Hopefully. Eventually. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Wow, you’re ready for a lot of nakedness then,” Stiles muttered under his breath. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Including Hale himself, because Stiles was now incredibly determined to make sure that Hale was going to end up being the most naked one of them all after this game. And yeah, it would be nice just because Hale was fucking gorgeous and Stiles could always use an excuse to get him naked some more - but also because Hale actually dared to doubt Stiles’ abilities. Not his ability to play hockey, but his ability to take this seriously. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Stiles was going to take this very seriously - far too seriously, more seriously than he’d ever taken anything in his damn life, including the aforementioned Stanley Cup Playoff games. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That was probably taking it too far, but he didn’t care. He had something to prove. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>So when he stopped the first shot rather easily - suck it, Whitty - his triumphant grin could probably be spotted even though he was in full gear from head to toe and masked up like a proper NHL goalie. Sure, he didn’t actually want to see that asshole naked - no matter how objectively pretty he was - but getting one over him was a sweet as hell victory. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That was luck,” Whitty was practically pouting. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“All skill, baby,” Stiles shouted across the ice. “Now, is it getting hot in here?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Of all the people on their team, no one had a bigger ego than Whittemore. Sure, he got drafted first overall in their draft year, and he’d been a pretty decent goal scorer since, but the ego was starting to get way too fucking old. Especially since he wasn’t even close to being the top scorer of the NHL. Naturally those Oilers machines outscored him (McJesus and his German scoring twin were ridiculous that way), but even some of the guys who were basically old and gritty (hehe, Gritty) veterans were still doing better than Whitty. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>So he really didn’t deserve to have the kind of ego he did. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So take off all your clothes,” Boyd and Lahey chorused together, those lovable idiots. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sure, Stiles didn’t love them as much as he loved Boyd’s wife - Stiles’ other best friend - but it was pretty damn close when they teamed up with him to make fun of Whitty. It was nice to feel like he was really part of the team, and not just the second string guy who only got pulled in when they were desperate. Though, Stiles was second in line as goalie. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He definitely wasn’t the last resort, no matter what Whitty tried to claim. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“One piece of clothing at a time,” Coach said, as if he expected that these idiots were just going to start stripping all willy-nilly. “And only if Bilinski blocks the shot.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Oh, Bilinski was going to block a lot of shots. The more they tried to act like he couldn’t do it, the more he was going to make it hell on all of them to get the puck past him. He wasn’t going to make it easy on any of them - except maybe Scotty, because the guy was his brother and while being naked in the locker room was fine… He didn’t need to see more of that. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Next up, though, was Derek fucking Hale. Scowly D-man who was always a surprisingly good shot when he needed to be - leading their defensemen in points (and goals) for the past few years, ever since they’d been forced into becoming a team that first year. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Well, not this time. This time Hale was going to the bottom of the heap. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Get naked, Hale,” Stiles grinned at him triumphantly after he blocked a true blast of a shot. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hale could score pretty well from the blue line - and his shots were fast as fuck - but he wasn’t the kind of guy who usually did a lot of stickhandling. In several different ways, because while most of the guys on their time got laid pretty regularly, Hale was pretty permanently uptight and Stiles was pretty sure that he wasn’t the only one who assumed that Hale just powered off at night and didn’t spend any time playing with his own stick at all. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Stiles would be happy to do it, though. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Shut up,” Hale couldn’t even look at Stiles. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He was too far away for Stiles to be able to tell if he was blushing or not, but he was really fucking hoping so, because that was a really good look on him. Stiles always loved being responsible for it, and wished it would happen more. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Still, Hale was definitely taking off his practice jersey, so clearly Stiles was winning in all the ways that actually mattered. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh God can you not flirt the whole time?” Scotty couldn’t handle it, as usual. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Maybe not the whole time, because Stiles had other people to focus on - at least for the duration of their shootout attempts - but definitely for a significant amount of the time. One of these times Hale was going to realize that Stiles was serious about this too, and realize that they were actually kind of perfect for each other and that dating someone you already knew was a lot less terrifying than trying to date someone new as a professional athlete. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Puck bunnies were definitely a thing, and Hale had been taken advantage of before. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No promises Scotty,” Stiles wasn’t going to make a secret of his appreciation. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He really didn’t mind making Hale just a little uncomfortable, just enough to blush and get all shy and maybe dip his chin - which was just fucking glorious because here was this six feet tall D-man who went into what Stiles loved to call ‘Beast Mode’ regularly, suddenly blushing and looking up through his lashes like he was some kind of Regency maiden. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The contradictions, they were glorious. The rituals, they were intricate. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“At least make sure that we’re out of here before you fuck on the ice,” Lahey got in a smartass comment before he made his shot, and it was super distracting. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And super effective, because Stiles definitely didn’t stop that shot. Which sucked, because Lahey could be a smug fucker too and Stiles was not letting a kid who was a year younger than him try to outplay him like that. No sir, Stiles was better than that. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Except when he got distracted by his massive thing for Hale. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Bilinski,” Coach was less than impressed too. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I know,” Stiles was trying not to get down on himself. “I’ll get the next one.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And he did. And the next one too. He even stopped Scott’s, even though he’d been determined to let that one through because he really didn’t need the Scott McCall striptease. Scotty could save that shit for his wife, because Stiles wasn’t into that at all. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But well, he had a reputation to protect and he had to make sure that most of these guys were at least shirtless by the end of this. Because Stiles was just that good. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Anyone who has made their shot can hit the showers,” Coach announced after the first couple rounds, and Stiles was glad for the smaller audience. “See you all tonight. We have a game to win. And if your balls start freezing, get the med staff. Save yourself.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The smaller audience would hopefully mean less distractions, even though the guys still in play were definitely shirtless and would have to remove their pants next round, leaving them in nothing but their underwear. Which was a distraction on a completely different level, especially with all of the… gloriousness that was a half-naked Derek Hale, sweaty and glistening. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The guy was positively fucking glistening and Stiles still had to focus on the path of the puck instead of trying to mentally dream up the path that his tongue would take on that chest, those pecs, and that everything. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That was a lot to ask of a guy with ADHD. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Not bad, Bilinski,” Coach almost approved when Stiles stopped Hale’s next shot too. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hale was less impressed though, trying to take off his pants while keeping his skates on and without falling over onto the very, very cold ice. He looked shy and a bit uncomfortable, and Stiles almost wanted to let him get it on the next shot just so he wouldn’t be weird and shy in front of Stiles for the foreseeable future. Except then he remembered the way that Hale had thought that Stiles wasn’t going to take this seriously. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’d certainly proven Hale wrong already, with about half a dozen guys left to go, a couple of them already in their underwear, some others still with pants on. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Better than not bad, Coach,” Stiles shouted, because he was amazing and people should know that. “I’m pretty sure that I’m not that much worse than your hero goalie.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Too much? Probably, but damn it, Stiles was on a roll and he was going to win this - even though there really wasn’t a way for the goalie to win at this, was there? Unless Coach was going to let them keep going until they were naked. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>If the guys couldn’t make their shot while naked, did Stiles win? Was that it? </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Your ego is getting out of hand,” Whitty was still in play, damn him. “Do remember that you’re just the backup. You’re only here because Danny is still recovering.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There was nothing seriously wrong with Danny, he just pulled something and needed to take a couple games off to recover from the strain he’d put his body under this past season. But Whitty loved acting as if Stiles personally overworked Danny or sabotaged him so that he could finally get a couple of games as starting goalie to prove himself. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Clearly Stiles had not done any such thing, but Whitty was still an asshole to him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Shut the fuck up, Whittemore,” surprisingly enough, Hale was the one rising to that taunt. “Or I will rip your throat out. With my teeth.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The jokes about Hale being a werewolf were never going to stop if he kept saying this kind of shit, but Stiles was far too amused to comment on it. Because Hale was defending him right now, and especially the ‘Hale threatening Jackson Whittemore’ part of that was improving every aspect of Stiles’ life right now. Hale should do that shit all the time. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Stiles would probably defend him from the werewolf jokes. Just probably though. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Playing favorites again, Captain?” Whitty just always had to be an asshole. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“There’s a reason why there’s no A on your chest,” Hale said that a little too loudly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Whitty looked hurt, but well, Stiles couldn’t dwell on that. He had to keep blocking the shots, even though there was a lot to get distracted by at this point. He was starting to wish that Coach wasn’t right there so he could ogle - Hale, just Hale - in peace. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Not that Whitty was going to let them get a second’s peace until he scored. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“There’s also a reason I’m going to let you have this one,” Stiles commented. “I don’t need to see any more of you - I’ve already seen too much.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sometimes the locker room was just really gross, just a room reeking of sweaty pads and various superstition-related items that definitely didn’t ever get washed. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re still trying to get Hale naked, huh?” Whitty thought that was enough of a distraction. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I see Hale naked just as much as I do you,” Stiles fought it with the truth. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And he’d learned not to outright look - because he wasn’t a fucking idiot. Even though it wasn’t as bad as it had been, this was still the NHL and Stiles knew better than to be the guy who looked - even though the entire team knew Stiles was interested in people regardless of stuff like gender. But with Hale? He really fucking wanted to look, and not just because Hale was obviously super gorgeous and just Stiles’ type - if he could contain himself to a single type. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, but you’re not pretty much in love with me,”  Whitty takes the shot right after he says that.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Of course Stiles missed it. He probably could have had that one too, but he missed it on purpose, instinctively flinching away from it as he saw the look on Hale’s face. Because Hale did not look as angry or frustrated or disgusted as Stiles had feared. In fact, Hale looked downright awed, and that’s just all Stiles was going to need to think about forever. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Because I have better taste than you,” Stiles had every right to be smug here. “And I would be happy to get into this in more detail when Coach is not right there.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But Whitty was already gone, so Stiles was basically talking to thin air, especially because Coach was currently being distracted by that asshole - who of course had the time to mouth ‘you’re welcome asshole’ over his shoulder at Stiles. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Like his shitty behavior was supposed to be a kindness to Stiles. As if. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“More detail, you say?” Hale was suddenly a lot closer than he’d been so far. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You expect me to talk when you look like this?” Stiles had to let him know how completely unfair this was. “You look like this and you play the way you do, and you’re a good Captain, and I honestly don’t even care about the werewolf thing, just put me out of my misery.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Look, the confession was embarrassing and they both knew it, and Stiles was going to be lucky if he didn’t end up getting traded or sent down to the AHL for creeping on his fucking captain like a fucking creeper. And Stiles usually wasn’t particularly lucky, no matter how well he tried to stick to the team superstitions. He just… He was the guy who came in when the luck was already shitty, when even magic Mahealani couldn’t keep out the bad bounces. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>So, he wasn’t lucky, and rejection was imminent. So why wasn’t Hale doing it already? Was it because he was still only wearing underwear and his skates? </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m not a werewolf, Stiles,” Hale just rolled his eyes. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You say that now but I’m going to find you howling at the moon later,” Stiles chirped, finding everything a whole lot easier when he could fall back on familiar banter. “Naked.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hale threw his head back and laughed - and if he’d tried to make a shot at that time Stiles wouldn’t have had a chance, not with that fucking smile that was obviously going to kill him one of these days - if he ever got the opportunity to see it again, on full display like this. Combined with the near-nudity it was a lot for a poor goalie like Stiles to deal with. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Are you going to make me get naked now?” Hale just chirped him in return. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I mean, if you need help,” Stiles’ stupid mouth struck yet again. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The great thing about a goalie mask was that the blushing and the being so flustered around Hale like all the time wasn’t quite as obvious. Really, Stiles needed to talk to Hartsy about this at some point - at least he’d be able to relate. Stiles had played some of the idiots on that team in Juniors, he knew what they were like - and what they looked like. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Though honestly, none of them measured up to Derek Hale. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Will you just put your money where your mouth is?” Hale was apparently getting impatient. “I’ve been waiting for you to make a move for ages. I’m your Captain, I can’t make the first move.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That would have been unethical, according to this idiot. Stiles liked him so damn much. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What are you two standing about for?” Coach was back. “Practice is over, Bilinski.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Probably a good thing, because there weren’t a lot of Hale-related moves that Stiles could make while in full gear. When he got out of it, though, oh boy. He had plans for Hale. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Judging by the look on Hale’s face though, Stiles wasn’t the only one with plans. </span>
</p>
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